


Cairo

by springhorton



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Angst and Humor, Pre-Slash, surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-09
Updated: 2011-11-09
Packaged: 2017-10-25 21:06:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/274794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springhorton/pseuds/springhorton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the crew of MJN airdot are asked to take a difficult client to Cairo along with all of his junk, trouble and hilarity ensue, especially when they realise that they may have left some of their passenger's belongings back in London. When they are forced to stay over in Cairo, it may be more than the crew can handle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cairo

The day began bright and early as it has a tendency to do for airline captains. I took the usual cab to the airfield, which I was now paying out of my own pocket I might add, thanks to Carolyn’s budget cuts. But I don’t complain even if it is substandard treatment for an airline crew. Of course, I can just hear Carolyn now, correcting me that she doesn’t have an airline because she only has one plane and one plane can’t be considered an airline. Still, I deserve all the respect of an airline captain, don’t I? I mean, I do fly the plane. Anyway, as I said, I caught a cab and directed it to the office. I usually rode with the rest of my crew, but Carolyn had called us in unexpectedly so there was no time to carpool.

“Ah, Martin, there you are finally,” Carolyn called out to me as I stepped through the door.

“I came as soon as you called, Carolyn,” I answered a bit ruffled.

“Oh, don’t be grumpy. I’m sure you did.”

“A little too wee houred for our esteemed commander?” my co-pilot, Douglas asked.

“No, no. I’m just used to a more controlled routine, that’s all.”

“Yes,” Douglas agreed. “What is this all about, Carolyn?”

Just then, Arthur came bounding in with coffee for all. “Morning Martin, Douglas.”

“You do realise that it’s just obscene to be so cheerful at five am, don’t you?” Douglas sniped at him.

“Alright,” Carolyn cut in. “I’ve brought you in early because there’s been a change of plans. I know how much you were all looking forward to going to Liverpool-“

“Indeed,” Douglas answered. “Our jowls were quivering with excitement.”

“Well, the client has decided that it’s much too wet in Liverpool this time of year and has changed his destination.”

“Oh pray tell, where does he want us to take him now?”

“Cairo.”

“Good Lord,” I mumbled.

“Yes, because that’s so much better,” Douglas threw in.

Arthur, of course, was overcome with enthusiasm. “Cairo! I’ve never been to Cairo. That’s the one with the pyramids right?”

“Yes, dear,” his mother answered.

“Ooh, what’s it like?”

“Dusty,” Douglas quipped.

“As you may remember, our client is rather eccentric, but pays very well. He will be here at six am sharp so let’s prepare,” Carolyn commanded.

“But what about the new route?” I asked, “The new destination?”

“All taken care of,” she assured me. “You just worry about the flying and getting the plane ready for takeoff.”

Carolyn disappeared into her office and the three of us headed out to the hangar. What we found there was a revolting mess.

“Dear god,” Douglas exclaimed, well in as much as Douglas can, “I didn’t know the man was moving house.”

“Will all of this stuff fit in the plane?” Arthur asked.

“I guess we’re about to find out,” I answered.

“Is the Captain going to help load cargo?” Douglas asked in mock disbelief.

“Yes, yes. Let’s get on with it.”

“Must be very early in the morning indeed.”

I shot him a glare and then began wandering through the fields of boxes, suitcases and other miscellaneous artifacts the client had deposited in our store room. And I use the term artifacts rather seriously.

“What is this stuff?” Arthur asked before long.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Some of it looks really old.”

“And seems to have just gotten back from Cairo considering the years of dust,” George added with a sneeze.

“And the smell,” I added.

“Could it be that he’s taking his mummy?”

“For heaven’s sake, Douglas.”

“His mummy!” Arthur repeated between fits of hysteria. “That’s funny Douglas.”

“Thank you Arthur. Good to know someone appreciates my humour.”

We continued to wade and try and figure out how to load it all. Before long we were running the risk of leaving off necessary equipment just to make room for the client’s belongings.

“This just won’t do,” I said a while later, covered in sweat and grime.

“Yes,” Douglas agreed. “You’ll definitely need a shower.”

“You know what I mean. We can’t fly a trip this long without food and water.”

“Or parachutes.”

Seemingly hours later, Arthur came back into the room with a checklist and a pen. He was smiling and nodding. “I think that’s all of it, fellows.”

“Thank god,” I sighed.

A moment later Carolyn walked in behind him, horrified. “What happened to you lot?”

“We’ve been a bit busy loading Indiana Jones’s prized possessions, Carolyn,” I replied.

“Did you find a place for it all on board?”

“Yes, we managed, thank you.”

“Well, go clean yourselves up and put on your spare uniforms. Mister Anderson will be here any moment.”

“Where did we fit the rest of his stuff?” Arthur asked when Carolyn was gone.

Douglas smiled shrewdly. “The overhead compartments.”

We hurriedly for the showers, jumping in and out as quickly as we could. When we came walking out, our shiny new selves, this Mister Anderson was already waiting for us.

Carolyn cleared her throat, speaking before our clearly irate passenger could. “Let me introduce you to our crew.”

“About time,” the man sniped in a high pitched whine. He was tall and skinny with large glasses and an old suit that was three times too big for him.

“Yes, well, there was a delay in loading your cargo due to the change in destination orders.”

“Excuses.”

Carolyn turned a violent shade of purple and looked like a pressure cooker that was about to explode. Mister Anderson didn’t notice. After a moment, Carolyn regained her composure. “As I was saying, this is our pilot, Martin Crieff and our co-pilot Douglas Richardson.”

Mister Anderson looked me over and shook his head. “No. Surely this can’t be the pilot.”

“I assure you, sir, that I am the captain,” I remarked sharply.

“But you’re too-“

“Young, yes I know.”

“Actually, I was going to say too short.”

My mouth dropped open, but Carolyn quickly grabbed my arm. “Can I see you for a moment, Captain?” Before I could answer she had steered me into the office.

“Carolyn, I am a professional airline captain and I do not have to put up with this man’s abuse.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that you are not an airline captain? I don’t have an airline.”

“Yes, yes, alright! I should still be treated in a courteous manner. I do not have to put up with this.”

“Oh yes you do, at least until the flight is under way. He is a high paying, large mouthed customer. I do not need him fouling the reputation of MJN airlines to his cronies around the globe.”

The two of us glared at one another a moment and then I realised that she was right.

“Martin, just let us get him on board and then Arthur can take care of him and you can worry about flying the plane.”

“Alright. I will try and focus on the task at hand.”

“It would be for the best.”

“Yes, I suppose it would.”

I legged it back to the plane and settled myself next to Douglas in the cockpit.

“Such a harsh thing for a client to say,” Douglas reassured me. “Height is overrated, all the cramped leg spaces, looking down on everyone else, all those women to fend off.”

“Oh shut up, Douglas.”

“Oh my, this Mister Anderson has touched a nerve with our tiny commander.”

“Douglas!”

“I’m sorry, I mean our supreme tiny commander.”

“Have you done the preflight checks?”

“Yes, I have.”

“Let me see the report.”

While Douglas handed me the report, Arthur stepped into the cockpit looking a bit ruffled. He seemed to be counting something off to himself.

“Is Mister Anderson all settled?” I asked.

“Yes, Skipper. I just need to remember everything Mum told me about him.”

“And what’s that, Arthur?” Douglas asked.

He started counting again. “Ok, he only drinks the bottled water he brought, not the stuff in the galley and it has to be unopened. Um, he has to have his valium before we take off and disco music has to be playing over the radio at all times.”

“Disco?” I repeated.

“Yes, specifically ABBA. It doesn’t have to be disco, just ABBA. They did have other sorts of music.”

“Yes, Arthur, I am aware of that. Just ABBA?”

“At all times. Oh and he has to have his cigars.”

“Not another smoker,” I moaned.

“He doesn’t actually smoke them,” Arthur informed me. “He just has to have them to suck on.”

“Well, this should be fun,” Douglas mumbled.

A few minutes later and we were ready for take-off. I nodded at Douglas to turn on the cabin mike and I took a breath. “Good morning, this is Captain Crieff speaking-“

At that moment, I was cut off by loud wailing in the cabin and Arthur came running back into the cockpit like a mad man.

“No!” he yelled. “You can’t do that. No announcements. Only ABBA!”

“What? How can I prepare the cabin if I can’t make announcements, Arthur? No, it’s just not safe.”

“You have too. He has some phobia of the intercom. He says the plane will crash if you make an announcement.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Be that as it may, Martin,” Douglas interjected, “I believe Carolyn told us to abide by the man’s wishes.”

“Douglas, we cannot risk the safety of this aircraft-“

“Sure we can, we do it all the time. Just tell Arthur what needs done, he can tell Mister Anderson. I’m sure Arthur knows the drill by now.”

“Fine, but I don’t like it.”

“Dually noted, Captain.”

I sighed. “Ready the cabin for takeoff, Arthur. At least get the man to put his seatbelt on.”

“Sure thing, Skipper.”

I started up the engines, thankful to get the flight started. Little did I know that it could have all been ruined by one brown, dusty little box.

Luckily we finally made it off the ground and things seemed to be running quite smoothly over Europe. Douglas and I chatted while Arthur kept our passenger at bay.

“You seem quiet today,” Douglas said a while after take-off.

I looked over at him, but didn’t say anything.

“Ah, still brooding over our passengers remarks are you?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.”

“You really must learn to ignore them. They insult you, but they only come to fly with us for a few hours and then they’re gone. It’s nothing personal.”

“But you do it too, Douglas! You do it all the time.”

“No.”

“Yes, you do. How am I supposed to feel when I’m constantly belittled by my own crew?”

“Goodness, Martin. I didn’t know it bothered you so.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Ok, I did. But I am sorry. I will try to keep myself in check.”

“Thank you. That’s all I ask.”

We were coming up on Italy, more than half way to our destination, when Arthur bounded back into the cockpit, another look of terror contorting his usually serene features. He had the checklist in his hands.

“Arthur, what in the world is going on?” Douglas asked.

“We don’t have it.”

“Don’t have what?”

“We forgot it.”

“What are you going on about?” I demanded.

“We don’t have everything on the list. We left a box at the airport.”

“Oh dear,” Douglas said.

“For heaven’s sake,” I sighed. “We can’t go back.”

“What are we going to do?” Arthur asked.

“What was in the box?” Douglas said and I could tell he had a plan forming already.

“A plate.”

“A plate?” I repeated.

Douglas took the form from Arthur and looked it over. “A first century Roman plate,” he added.

“Oh my god,” I said and rubbed my brow. “What are we going to do?”

“Arthur, is there a picture of this plate?”

“Yeah, on the second page.”

Douglas lifted the page and found the photos of Mister Anderson’s personal affects. He looked the photo over for a while, his brow furrowed. Then a large grin slowly crept across his face.

“Douglas? What are you thinking?” I asked.

“We need to set down in Rome.”

“What? We can’t land in Rome. We have no reason to divert.”

“Certainly we do. Our passenger seems to have fallen into an unexplained coma.”

“What are you talking about? Mister Anderson’s fine.”

“He is now, but once Arthur gives him a couple more valiums, he’ll be right to sleep.”

“Douglas, we can’t-“

“Why not? He wants to have a relaxing flight. This way we can call in to Rome, have a doctor come look him over, be sure to have the valium around so the doctor can say he just took one too many and will be fine. In the meantime, I can take care of our plate situation.”

“Oh you can, can you? And how is that?”

“I know a man. Arthur, please have Mister Anderson’s valium ready.”

“And just how do you plan to get him to take more, pray tell?” I asked.

“Like this,” he answered and took over the controls. Suddenly the plane was nose diving and Arthur and I were screaming. Douglas turned on the intercom and said, “Douglas Richardson, the co-pilot here. Not to worry, Mister Anderson, just a bit of unexpected turbulence.”

A bit more screaming and Douglas turned the intercom off and straightened up the plane. “Now, Arthur, get the valium ready and tell Mister Anderson that we will be expecting a good deal more turbulence.”

“Douglas I don’t know about this,” I complained.

“Don’t worry, Captain. All is in good hands.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

I called air traffic control in Rome and requested a diversion for a medical emergency. As soon as we landed, an ambulance was sent out to check Mister Anderson. Douglas quickly disembarked and told us not to worry again and disappeared into the airport. I waited with the now unconscious Mister Anderson while Arthur went into the cargo hold. By this time I was really worried as Arthur had said that he’d thought of a good plan too.

The emergency medical staff came into the cabin and eyed me with what I was certain was suspicion. They checked Anderson’s vitals and asked me what I knew about him.

“Uh, well, not much really. This is the first time he’s hired MJN airlines.” I hesitated and then added, “I know he takes valium to help him relax during flying.”

“I see,” the Italian paramedic said, nodding. About that time his colleague found the medicine packet that Arthur had left, conspicuously, in the next seat. He handed it over and the man looked it over. “Apparently your passenger has taken more than he should. It is not so much to be life threatening though. I recommend you stay here for a while to make sure, but he should be fine.”

“Oh, thank you very much, sir,” I said.

The paramedic and his colleague nodded and then left me alone in the cabin with Mister Anderson. I sat there, sipping on the man’s precious bottled water and staring at his sleeping features for an hour. I had no idea what Arthur or Douglas were up to, but I had a feeling it couldn’t be any good. Mister Anderson was going to wake up soon a throw a fit and that was before he found out about his missing plate. Then he would tell Carolyn about it and our unathorised diversion and she was going to fire me or worse, hunt me down and kill me. Or maybe even torture me first. Either way, it was all a mess.

Then, simultaneously, Douglas came walking up the stairs and into the cabin and Arthur came bounding up from the cargo hold. Douglas looked smug, but before he could say anything, he became absorbed in staring at Arthur. The man was holding a plate and a gallon bucket and was covered in blue paint.

“Arthur!” I exclaimed.

“What on earth happened to you?” Douglas added.

“Well, I thought I could solve the plate problem by painting a replica. Turns out it wasn’t as easy as I thought, but I found a plate in the galley and a brush and this blue paint in the cargo hold.”

I shook my head. “We barely had room for food and our passenger’s cargo, but there was room for paint that we couldn’t possibly need?”

“Ah, but we did need it,” he cheerfully answered.

“On the off chance that we would need you to paint a replica of a first century Roman plate?” Douglas quipped.

“Exactly.”

The two of us looked over Arthur’s plate, not sure what to say. It didn’t look anything like the picture.

“Well, while your effort was valiant,” Douglas told him, “I’m afraid it was unnecessary.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” He opened up a box he’d carried in and quickly pulled something out with a “Voila!” It was also a plate and this one looked exactly like the one we’d left behind.

“Where did you get that?” I whispered.

“I could tell you, but then I’d have to shoot you.”

“Is it real?”

“Again, I could tell you-“

“Oh alright. Just pack it up and stow it in the hold and let’s get out of here.”

Mister Anderson was still unconscious when we finally got underway for Cairo again. Douglas kept mum, just smiling to himself and Arthur went back to make sure our passenger was still alright.

“Douglas?” I said.

“Yes, Martin?”

“Do you have a contact for everything?”

“Most probably.”

Just when we thought we were out of hot water, warning lights began flashing on the instrument panel. It was the smoke detectors.

“We have to make an emergency landing!” I yelled. “Call air traffic control-“

Once again, Arthur burst into the cockpit. “It’s ok, it’s Mister Anderson. He’s smoking in the toilet.”

“Smoking?” I exclaimed. “I thought you said he only sucked on those cigars?”

“Yes, well, apparently all the excitement-“

“For heaven’s sake! Try to get him to stop and go back to his seat, Arthur.”

“Sure thing, Skipper.”

A few moments later, Arthur came back in with a nod and a grin. “He’d finished anyway, Captain.”

“Thank god,” Douglas said. “That could have been a bad situation.”

Suddenly we could smell smoke from the cabin. I jumped up from my seat and shoved Arthur into the cabin. There was Mister Anderson, smoking another cigar in his seat.

“Mister Anderson,” I shouted as politely as I could. “You are not allowed to smoke on this or any other aircraft. It is strictly against policy.”

“Yes, I mentioned that,” Arthur chimed in.

“Is that so?” Anderson asked.

“Yes, it is.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure as I’d only heard it from him,” he said, poking a finger in Arthur’s direction. Then he leaned towards me as if we were coconspirators or something to that effect. “And I’m not too sure he’s fit for duty if you know what I mean.”

I looked over at Arthur who looked a bit deflated. I felt my face flush and I stood up straight. “Well, that is the law. And I assure you that Arthur is the best steward MJN has ever had.”

Mister Anderson eyed me doubtfully for a moment, but then snuffed out his cigar. “Very well.”

With that, I returned to the flight deck with Arthur trailing behind.

“Thanks for that,” he said, back to his chipper self.

“Sure thing, Arthur.”

“Of course, I’m the only steward we’ve ever had, but I guess he doesn’t know that.”

“No. And you are a good steward, Arthur, really.”

“Thanks.”

We finally made it to Cairo without any further incidents. Now there was only Mister Anderson and his cargo to offload. He stood and watched as Arthur, Douglas and I unloaded the same possessions we’d loaded up a few hours earlier, well mostly. It felt like days had gone by. Mister Anderson had the checklist and was scrutinizing every dusty box that came out of the hold. Finally, all that was left was the plate Douglas had picked up in Italy. I immediately saw what could have been our downfall; the box was clean and new. Mister Anderson looked it over suspiciously. Then he began unwrapping it and I held my breath. Arthur looked like he was about to pass out, but Douglas was cool and composed as ever. Our client took the plate out of the box, gave it the twice over and replaced it, satisfied that it was indeed his precious plate.

A few minutes later and it was all over, or so I thought.

“No,” Douglas corrected me, “apparently not. We’ve been booked to take something back to England.”

“Booked by whom?”

“Why Mister Anderson. That box there.”

Sitting in a corner of the hangar was another small, dusty box.

“You mean we have to layover until morning just to take that one ancient box back with us?”

“Looks like.”

“Well, what is it?”

“Let’s find out, shall we,” Douglas said mischievously and then opened the box. It was a plate, a plate that looked identical to the one we’d troubled over.

“I don’t believe it,” I said.

“Apparently, Mister Anderson deals in fakes.”

“No?”

“Oh yes, at least I hope he does because that’s all he’s got.”

“So, I guess we should find a hotel for the night,” I sighed.

“No, mum’s got that all worked out,” Arthur assured us.

“Wonderful,” Douglas grumbled.

Half an hour later we stepped into the most dilapidated hotel room I had ever seen.

“Dear god,” I breathed. “There’s only one bed.”

“Yes,” Douglas agreed. “Well, at least there’s a restaurant.”

“But would you really want to eat there? And where are we going to sleep?”

“We’ll have to share. Throw Arthur on the floor for still looking much too enthusiastic. Well, that’s settled, now what?”

“I know, chaps,” Arthur said, cheerful to the last. “We can go see the pyramids.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “We have another long flight tomorrow. We should rest up.”

“So dinner it is then,” Douglas said.

“I’ll find us a table,” Arthur offered and disappeared back downstairs.

As if things weren’t tying enough, at that moment a freak thunderstorm popped up. I cringed at the sound of a loud thunder clap. Douglas only laughed heartily.

“Just think, Mister Anderson came to Egypt to get away from the rain.”

“I thought it didn’t rain here.”

“Oh, it’s rare, but when there’s a storm, it’s usually a big one.”

“Great,” I said with a sigh. “I hate thunderstorms.”

“Our fearless captain isn’t afraid of a little thunder and lightning, is he?”

“I didn’t say I was afraid of it, just that I don’t like it!”

“Alright, alright. Are you coming down to dinner?”

“I don’t think so, Douglas. I’m just going to go to bed.”

Douglas nodded and disappeared out the door as well. I sighed and pulled off my uniform. As I sat down on the bed, another clap of thunder made me leap back to my feet. I scolded myself and turned down the thin sheet, checking for bed bugs and who knows what else. When I had deemed it safe enough, I crawled under them and tried to sleep.

I don’t know how much later it was, but I hadn’t slept a wink, when Arthur came back into the room, trying to be quiet while I laid there awake and cowering. Apparently, he noticed so he made his way over to the bed in the dimly lit room.

“Skipper, are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine?” I asked. Meanwhile another bolt of lightning and roll of thunder made me squeeze my eyes shut.

“Ah, Douglas said-“

“Oh, did he now? And just what did Douglas say?”

“Well, he may have mentioned that you didn’t like storms very much.”

“No, not particularly.”

Arthur smiled and patted my shoulder gingerly. “You know there’s nothing to be afraid of right? It can’t get to us in here.”

I started to snap something haughty at him, but instead just sighed. “Yes, Arthur, I am aware of that. I’m afraid it doesn’t help though.”

“Would you like me to rub your shoulders or something?”

“No! Arthur, I’m fine, really. Just go to bed. Where’s Douglas anyway?”

“Oh, he’ll be up soon…I think.”

With that, Arthur took the bed roll on the floor and I closed my eyes on the bed. I had actually managed to fall asleep when I vaguely heard the door open and close and then a weight on the mattress. I opened my eyes to Douglas taking him shoes off.

“Hello Martin. Do you mind squeezing over a bit so I can lie down or would you rather we just spooned?”

I glared at him and moved over. By then the storm was gone and I fell right back into a dreamless stupor. I have to admit that I felt a bit refreshed in the morning, at least more so than Douglas who’d been up most of the night. Arthur was, well, of course, Arthur.

“Ok, chaps, breakfast?”

“Good god, no,” Douglas answered, rubbing his stomach.

“I told you not to eat there,” I said.

“Yes, Captain, I remember.”

“Well, me neither, Arthur. The sooner we get to the airport the better. I’d rather have one of your meals on the plane.”

“Really?”

“Why not?” Douglas answered.

So we called for a taxi back to the airport and readied our flight, glancing at the box with the plate now and then, a bit of loathing on our faces. We had a breakfast that at least wasn’t going to kill us. A few hours later, we were up in the skies, our spirits lifted at the thought of going home.

I gained altitude and banked north, flying out over the Giza Plateau. Suddenly Arthur was squealing like a school girl and rushed onto the flight deck.

“The pyramids! Look you can see the pyramids!”

In unison Douglas and I bellowed, "Arthur!"

**Author's Note:**

> When I wrote this I didn't really have an ships in mind for this series, but as I wrote this one I realised that I did have a couple I liked in mind. I won't tell you which though, but when I right more Cabin Pressure, you'll find out who it is.


End file.
